


Rose I: Hurting

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Boys in Chains, Drama, M/M, Multiple Partners, Other: See Story Notes, S/M, Series: Rose, b/d, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:24:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim makes a bad choice and pays the price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rose I: Hurting

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING!!!! This is NOT a nice story! It's a Panther story but NOT part of the series. In fact, this is so dark and sick and twisted that I'm surprised I could cook it up. Blame it on the song called Rose... that's what inspired me.
> 
> EVEN MORE WARNINGS!!! Do NOT do this in Real Life! I squicked myself by trying to _write_ this, this is UNSAFE, NON-CON, RAPE, VIOLENCE, but some comfort too. To those who are worried, there's 3 parts to this story: Hurting, Healing and Whole. It all ends well, but this part is the worst, and the ickiest. Trust me, this is NOT something I have experience with, neither do I want to. LAST WARNING!!! STD's do not exist in _my_ fiction, but it's very much present in Real Life. Take care of yourself and your partner, use condoms. Oh, feedback is muchly appreciated, and I'll even try to reply to it :) Just promise me, you won't kill me for this one, ok? I _promise_ I'll write some non-angsty smut after this series.

## Rose I: Hurting

by Panther

Author's webpage: <http://www.squidge.org/~theforest/aaboe/aaboe.html>

Author's disclaimer: I don't own them, only person I own is Rose and that's not a person I want. Read at own risk ;)

* * *

Rose I: Hurting  
By Panther 

Jim staggered out from the bar, feeling filthy and shameful. He'd done yet again what he'd sworn so many times he wouldn't do... he'd given in to his dark side. 

The temptation had once more proven itself stronger than his mind, his willpower. Temptation... oh yes, sweet temptation with the face of an angel and the mind of a devil. 

Memories of his walk on the wilder side in the past couple of hours made the normally strong man stumble and use the wall as a support for long minutes. 

Images flashed on the inside of his eyelids... dancing enticingly for his angel to gain approval and a scent of desire... worshipping long, leather-clad legs, shining the boots with his tongue, panting like a bitch in heat as the unoccupied booted foot stroke his bared erection over and over... a husky voice telling him not to come, to show the crowd how hot he was, but under no circumstances come without permission... the heat of expressive eyes searing his soul as they looked at his clamped nipples, while nimble fingers danced over the red welts on his chest and criss-crossing his groin... dark images that he ought to store away and lock the door on them. 

He couldn't do that. 

Still shaking from the events of the night, Jim unlocked his truck and slid in behind the wheel. Slumping in his seat, he fought the harsh sobs stuck in his throat. God, he felt dirty. In a way, it was as bad as being raped. Except that it wasn't some stranger forcing him, but his own mind, his own hunger. 

"Never again." 

Startled, Jim realized he'd spoken out loud. Snorting derisively, he figured it would keep about as long as since the last time he'd sworn that. Nevertheless, he repeated the oath, promise? This time only in his mind. 'Never again.' 

* * *

Back home at the Loft, he let himself in stealthily. He'd perceived his roommate's presence already at the parking lot, and he _really_ didn't want to face his Guide at... five am, especially not while still feeling raw and vulnerable. Tomorrow would be early enough. 

Dropping his clothes in a heap on the floor, too exhausted to put them away, he slid in to bed with a little sigh. Perhaps he'd look more rationally at... things, after some sleep. 

* * *

He was at the bar, watching. Waiting. Looking for his prey. The lines of a body undulating to the pounding rhythms lured him with their familiarity. Another somebody caught his eyes, the hair achingly familiar. Upon closer inspection it turned out to be the wrong color, wrong length, wrong somebody. 

A pair of eyes caught his, held him fast. A smile flashed, which he answered nervously, and it quickly morphed into something infinitely more dangerous, darker. He could literally _see_ the power settling over his opponent. Shivering, he realized that he needed this, needed to be the prey instead of the predator. 

Smooth movements across the dance floor brought his opponent closer, close enough to touch. With only a shred of control left, he refrained from dropping to his knees unbidden. A husky voice commanded him to look up, and he did, to face the one holding his control in strong, capable hands. 

"Dance for me. Show me how worthy you are of my attentions." 

Listening to the music, he tried to fall into it, surrendering to it as he already had surrendered to the devil before him. A devil with the face of an angel. 

He gyrated to the heavy beat, trying hard to project his willingness and his strength. Apparently he was succeeding, since pheromones flooded his nostrils, making him hard inside his worn jeans. Inspired to move even more suggestively, he turned to show off his ass, running his hands down over swivelling hips. 

"Stop. Come here." 

Turning back around immediately, he faced his angel sitting on a barstool, one leg stretched out. Finger beckoning him over, he dropped to his knees in front of his tormentor. 

Wordlessly, one boot-clad foot stretched towards him, and he obeyed. The taste of leather threatened to overwhelm him, but he managed to pull away from the edge of a zone-out by running both hands up and down the leg before him. Almost surrounded by leather, under his tongue and hands, he lovingly indulged himself until told to stop. 

"Open your jeans. Let me see your need." 

Blushing at the thought of all the other people who'd also see, he still obeyed immediately. 

Bending over again, to worship the other boot now stretched towards him, he pushed his awareness of everybody else firmly from his mind. He was surprised, though, when the first boot stroked down his erection to tap gently at his balls. It was an unexpected maneuver, not unpleasant, just... surprising. 

He couldn't help humping the spit-shined boot a bit, only to stop when it was removed from his range of movement. 

"Control, slave, control. You don't want it to be over yet, do you?" 

He wasn't given a chance to reply. 

" _I_ control you, when you can come, _if_ you can come. You're here for _my_ pleasure, not the other way around." 

The wonderful torture went on for a while longer, until both boots were shiny with spit, even if one was extra slicked from his pre-come. Standing, as ordered, he grabbed hold of the rails on the wall above and behind his head, having already heard the whoosh of a riding crop being tested in the air. The first strokes were tentative, testing the waters so to speak. When it finally connected firmly, he almost jumped at the sensation. 

He'd forgotten the distinct pain of a crop, as if a burning ember had been placed on his skin. Yet the ember didn't ignite the fire, he was already burning. The heat pooled in small spots, and spreading deeper in to his body. Groaning deeply, he accepted the lashes spread at random over his chest and dancing maddeningly light around his cock. 

Everybody could see him; see his pleasure, his embarrassment, and his surrender. Their eyes were too much, so he closed his own. 

"Look at them. Let them see it all, consciously. No hiding." 

Hiding... that's what he'd done for far too long. He opened his eyes. 

The others saw him shiver, cock harder than ever, as small red dots turned to welts. They saw, and a few heard, him scream his pain to the ether, letting it all go, surrendering to his sweet-faced Top. 

On the knife's edge of pleasure, it all stopped. His teeth started chattering at the sudden change. He was not left in limbo for long though, as butterfly clamps were attached to his tender nipples. Grinding his teeth, he endured, only to gasp loudly as his skin was caressed with sure hands. Willpower melting away, he bucked helplessly as his sore cock and balls were fondled. He was quickly at the edge again, only to have all sensation stop just before it was too late. 

"What do you want the most, slave? Tell me what you need." 

"To please you... to be used..." 

His voice broke at the admission, and he looked around quickly. The hoarse whisper hadn't carried; only one person had heard his answer. Ears pink, he looked back at his tormentor, who was tightening a buckle. 

"Then get down on your knees and please me." 

Blushing deeper, he complied. He must have been more transparent than he thought to have his secret desires determined so easily. 

Tentatively, he eyed the monster bobbing in front of his face. Dialing down taste and smell, he sucked in the first half of it. Memory supplied him with that which reality failed in providing him. 

"Suck well and I'll fuck you. Do a bad job and I'll walk away." 

He did his best, which was very good indeed. Years of experience had taught him how to do it right and plain hunger gave him the incentive. Oh, how he ached to feel being spread wide, taken. 

Hardly noticing it, caught up in need, he was pushed away and turned around, two fingers filling the emptiness in his mouth while two from the other hand lubed his ass. 

"You're such a slut, slave. Tight, too. This is going to be good." 

One opening was emptied while the other was slowly being filled completely. Moaning helplessly, he pushed back, taking it deeper, faster. Here he was, being fucked in the ass right in front of the main bar, the crowd watching. It was embarrassing, humiliating and utterly exciting. 

His devilish Top set a wicked pace, nailing his hot-spot over and over, until he was crying out from the sheer pleasure. Nails scratched his back deeply, making him arch and groan. Senses reeling, he could only passively receive. 

* * *

Gasping, Jim sat straight up in bed; his cock pumping the last drops out. Blushing furiously in his solitude, he tried to push the images back to the primal ooze they'd emerged from. 'Never again!' 

* * *

Over the next couple of days Jim managed to keep his midnight promise, as well as keep his roommate completely in the dark about what had happened. Blair never seemed to suspect a thing, which brought tremendous relief to his frazzled nerves. 

Then, for reasons unknown to himself, when it turned out that Blair was going out on yet another date Saturday night, Jim got ready and soon found himself parked in front of the bar. He looked at the neon sign sizzle, mentally calling himself seven different kinds of fool. Still, he got out, locked the truck and went through the door. Back into his darker side. 

His devilish angel was here... standing at the bar; laughing at some bawdy joke Jim only got the tail end of. He became mesmerized with the way the cheap lights reflected off the long, raven-black hair, falling in gentle waves all the way down to a very shapely ass. 

He let his eyes devour the tantalizing mounds for long moments, admiring the way the smooth leather clung to the skin underneath. Leather also covered the rest of the body; a couple of straps around the biceps combined with an open vest and a shiny cap cocked cheekily to one side. 

He froze as she turned and spotted him. No backing out now. 

She beckoned him over callously, expecting him to obey. She was right. Before he knew it, his feet had moved him over to kneel in front of her, bending his neck to look meekly at her boots. 

She petted him lightly, and then uttered a little delighted laugh. 

"Look what I found last Saturday. Isn't he just marvellous? Such a good little toy... and a slut too! Wanna try him out?" 

Panicking on the inside, Jim started and tried to back out. He'd not agreed on anything with the others! She calmed him with a light hand to his head, combing through what was left of his hair. 

"If you're good, I'll let you fly again. Show me how good you are. Are you worthy of me?" 

Wanting it and yet despising himself for it, he whimpered quietly. Then, giving a small, jerky nod, he pushed his head up towards her hand again. 

From there, it quickly became a blur. She made him drink something from her glass, something that was not pure beer. He could feel his senses reel, but at that time she'd already caught him completely in her web again. 

He no longer cared. 

At some stage he felt a draft over his body and realized he was naked. He didn't feel cold, that was almost impossible with the fire raging in his body, combined with hands and toys caressing his skin all over. Self-consciousness was a thing of the past, as he went from person to person in front of the bar, goaded and led by his sweet tormentor. 

One place he was made to suck off a guy, but not allowed to touch with anything but his mouth. The inevitable result was deposited on his face, left there to be a shining mark to his debasement and humiliation. 

Next it was a female he serviced with his mouth, while her partner used a cat o'nine tails on his back. The pain was enough of a distraction to prolong the experience for the girl, as he had to let go several times. Every time that happened, his sweet-faced devil punished him by adding another six ounces of lead to the string around his balls. There was a large bucket of sinkers standing next to the counter, almost completely filled. 

By the time he was finally allowed to get up from her, he was whimpering with pain, yet not wanting the scene to stop. It filled his dark needs, gave him the blankness of mind he needed. Darkness was good. 

On and on it went, always with his angel touching him with hand or toy, whispering to him how hot he was, how good he was, that he was worthy of her attention. When he was bent over a chair and fucked roughly, she stood in front of him, murmuring what a great slut he was. 

He revelled in it. 

He went from person to person around the bar, servicing men and women alike, always giving them what they wanted, what _she_ wanted him to give... his mouth, his ass, his entire body. 

Finally it was over, and he found himself back in the truck, shivering and aching in numerous places. He needed to get home, _now_. 

Thanking God that he didn't encounter a lot of cars on the way back to the Loft, he sneaked into the living room, hoping that Blair wouldn't hear him. 

No such luck. 

"Jim? Oh, hey, man. You're kinda late, aren't you? Want a beer?" 

Shaking his head mutely, he took off his coat and tried to reach the stairs before Blair would notice how shaken he was. 

God still didn't keep his hand over way-ward Sentinels when their Guide was involved. 

"Are you alright? You look pale... you're not coming down with a cold or something, are you?" 

Jim tried hard not to flinch as Blair reached out for his face. He didn't quite succeed. 

"What's wrong, Jim?" 

"Nothing, just tired... had one beer too many, I guess. I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Sandburg." 

Leaving his confused roommate behind, he escaped up to his bed. Quickly undressing, he slipped under the covers, vowing yet again that this was the last time he'd gone to the bar. 'Never again.' 

* * *

That promise was reinforced the next morning when he realized the shape he was in. He was pretty badly bruised, and his skin had broken in a few places. Worst was though his ass. He tried to remember how many men had fucked him, but he couldn't. He'd lost count somewhere around three or four. 

Wincing and moving like he belonged in the geriatric ward, he made his way down to a blessed shower and some fresh coffee. Waitaminute... fresh coffee? Oh damn... Sandburg was up. 

A shower helped him move better, at least well enough to keep up a facade of well-being. It lasted him through breakfast, but when he was getting ready to leave, he turned too fast. Hissing under his breath, he missed Blair's concerned look. 

"Jim? What's wrong?" 

His roommate got up and reached out a hand to touch his back. He moved as smoothly as he could, dodging the attempt. 

"Must have pulled a muscle or something. No big deal." 

"Uh-huh." 

It was amazing how a non-existing word could sound like a complete sentence. 

"Gotta get to work, Sandburg. You're having classes today, right?" 

"Right." 

Jim almost fled out the door, not caring about his dignity anymore, just wanting to be away from those sharp eyes. They sometimes saw too much, and now was _not_ a good time for that to happen. 

At the Station he told Simon he'd overdone it at the gym and was left to do paperwork all day. The lack of movement was great for his muscles, especially those on his back, but hell on his ass. Sitting down _hurt_. 

He got through the day with a little help from his new mantra, 'Never again.' 

* * *

The next week he seemed to encounter Blair everywhere. He was right behind him while outside, sitting close when inside, and most of the time Blair had this speculative look on his face. 

It made Jim jumpy, but not quite enough to explode. Snapping didn't help since there wasn't a reply half the time, just that penetrating gaze. 

Blair didn't _say_ anything, but Jim could almost hear the wheels turn every single time. So far though, he had a reprieve. 

He did _not_ look forward to when the confrontation would come. And it would come, no doubt about that. 

* * *

Jim looked around the Loft, looking for something to do. It was a Saturday night, and as usual Blair had left all decked out for a hot date. The living room was spotless, not a speck of dust in sight and nothing out of place. He knew, without looking, that the rest of the place was the same. 

Nothing left to do in that area. 

He pondered going to the gym, but at this time of night the risk of it already being closed, or just closing down, was too great. No point in going there. 

What did that leave him? He could go out for a beer somewhere, but half the fun was going out with someone... ok, when that someone was Blair. Who was he kidding? He just wanted to be in the company of his hyper roommate, and then things wouldn't look so bleak. Even if the kid was mighty suspicious of what was going on with Jim, that didn't prevent wanting to socialize. Did it? 

Sighing, he went to get his jacket and wallet, snatching his keys on the way out. Maybe Denny's would be hopping enough to distract him from his solitude. 

* * *

Sighing, Jim looked around the bar. The activity of the party people made him feel his solitude even more. It seemed like everybody but him had someone to talk with, hold on to and dance with. 

He was alone. 

Finishing his beer, he got up and made his way out onto the street. Now what? Well, there was always... no, he wasn't going to go there. Not even if his longing for Blair was so great as to be felt like a physical ache seated deep in his guts. 

Firming his resolve and deciding to go home, he nonetheless found himself at the parking lot in front of the bar instead of on Prospect. He tried to make his hands steer the truck towards home, but turned off the engine and stepped out instead. 

Apparently his body was overruling his mind tonight. Not the first time that had happened. 

Giving in, for now, he entered. She was there. He shouldn't have expected it, but he experienced no surprise at seeing her. 

She spotted him immediately, but didn't acknowledge that with anything but a slight increase in her heartbeat. Jim started a bit when he realized that he _was_ in fact listening for her heart. Did he care that much, or was it that he didn't trust her? For once looking deep inside, he found distrust to be the cause for his behaviour. 

And he was going to submit to her? Again? 

His body, once again overruling his mind, replied by making him hard and aching for her attentions, her particular flavor of darkness. 

Jim bent his head and walked over to her slowly. He had not been invited over to her, so he stopped at a respectful distance, listening to her talk with friends. 

Finally she beckoned him over with a low "Come here." 

At close distance, he dropped to his knees, all but purring as she petted him with a hand through his hair. This was what he had wanted, attention and some kind of affection. Preferably from Blair, but since that was not possible this would have to do. 

"Missed me, slut?" 

He nodded jerkily. 

"Good." 

Nothing more was said to him for a long while. She continued to discuss how to break a slave with the two Masters on each side of him. Not even with those was she on equal footing, he realized. She treated them with a hint of respect, but generally like they were hers to do with as she pleased. 

He couldn't help but wonder if she felt equal to anyone. 

All but lost in the sensation of her hand in his hair, he snapped to rigid attention when suddenly she mentioned him. 

"... look at this little slut here. He came in, looking so cocky and self-assured and see where he is now, at my feet, waiting for scraps of my attention. I tell you, he's broken but good." 

One of the Masters expressed some disbelief at that, and before Jim knew it, he was again being offered to a stranger. For a second he thought of rebelling, but a gentle hand stroking his neck below his ears paired with a soft "For me, slut," calmed him down. 

In spite of his newly found lack of trust, he still wanted to please her, craved her attentions. For a second, he spared a wistful thought on how it would be if it was Blair he submitted to this way, but ruthlessly put a stop to that particular train. No use wishing for light when he was consumed by darkness. 

He was led over to a sidewall of the bar, where a bench had been set up on some occasion. Efficiently stripped, he was placed on his back on the bench. 

"Lie still, slut, and we'll take care of everything." 

Shivering with excitement and fear over what would happen to him this time, he complied. The fear grew, as he saw her take a jar of Crisco from underneath the bench and hand it to the Master. What were they going to do to him? 

Scratching her long nails up and down his sides, she distracted him to a shivering lump. His nipples were next. She pinched him hard enough to make him gasp, utterly distracting him from what was going on. A slick finger being pushed into him took him by surprise for the same reason. 

'Ooooh, here we go.' 

One turned to two, then three, and four. It was fast enough succession, that he felt a low pain constantly, but her ministration to his nipples kept him breathless enough that he couldn't speak. 

"Drink this. It'll help you relax your greedy ass, slut." 

Jim looked at her for long seconds, before taking a sip of her beer. Just like last time he could detect a faint trace of something else besides the beer, something elusive but faintly astringent. 

She didn't move the glass until he'd downed about half the glass, forcing him to swallow by the simple expedient of having the glass tipped at his open mouth. He could drink or suffocate, simple as that. 

Already feeling the buzz start to take him over, he relaxed further, only to hiss in pain as the Master pushed finger number four into his reluctant ass. 

"You're tight tonight, slut. I'll need to distract you more." 

Clenching his muscles, he awaited her next move dizzily. 

She pinched him harder, causing him to strain upwards. Surprised, he found that he couldn't lift very high. Looking, he saw that his hands were cuffed to the bench, just like his feet had been locked in place in the stirrups. 

He felt his mind drift away, detaching itself from what was going on. He knew there were four fingers thrusting into him, just like he knew that the pain at his nipples was intensifying, but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

Looking down at a particularly sharp pain in his left nipple, he saw her slowly push a thin needle sideways into it. He tried to squirm, get away, but the bonds held him too well. At the same time the pain in his ass increased ten-fold. 

Detachedly, he knew that the thumb was being pressed in now. He was being fisted, for the first time in his life. Crying out in pain, he looked up at her, begging with his eyes to let him go, let him rest, let him... let him in peace. 

She just grinned that wicked little smile of hers. 

Ass spasming due to pain, not pleasure, he tried to focus on what was wrong. Then he felt it. He hadn't been ready enough; he couldn't give enough. He distinctly felt more liquid than there should be. 

"You're right in that he's a tight slut, Rose. Jesus, it feels like he's trying to squeeze my hand off in there." 

"Keep going. He'll loosen up" 

Drifting further and further away as he concentrated on the peculiar feeling of his own blood adding to the slickness in him, a few drops trickling down his crack on the outside, Jim only barely noticed that his two tormentors were talking about him. 

"He's bleeding." 

"Nothing to worry about, Rick. He's had worse without complaints. Keep going; let him have all you can give him. Just _look_ at him! Does he look like someone in serious discomfort?" 

Dimly Jim thought, that now wouldn't be a good time to zone, but he couldn't seem to get the energy needed to pull away from the greyness. Going further and further away, the last he heard was the mumbled 'no' from the Master as the hand was curled into a fist and pushed further into his violated ass. 

* * *

Getting back from his zone was way different than usual. No Blair to coax him gently back into the land of the living, no soothing sounds or touches. Instead there was pain. Pain harsher and fiercer than he'd ever experienced before. Where was he? Oh yes, the bar. What was going on? Last he remembered was... the fisting. 

Panicking, he zeroed in on his ass. It hurt. God, it hurt. Also on the outside? What was going on? 

_SMACK_

A hard, flat object hitting his ass. He was lying on his stomach, still tied at his wrists and ankles. A paddle? He was being paddled? And it hadn't just started, he realized. 

He could still feel a flow of blood on the inside, but it had been joined by some slow trickles from his cheeks as well. God, what were they _doing_ to him? 

_SMACK_

He'd been a good boy. He'd obeyed. Why were they punishing him? 

_SMACK_

It went on and on, Jim no longer caring where he was, who they were. He was in _PAIN_ and not bothering with who knew that. 

Finally they stopped. He no longer had much of a voice left and could only lie there whimpering as they untied him. 

"Get up." 

He tried to focus on the speaker. It was _her_. Rose. 

"I... I can't," he whispered. 

He had no control left. They'd taken it all. He had nothing left, only darkness. 

She slapped his ass. "I said, get up!" 

Pulling his last resources, he got up on his arms, quivering like a newborn foal. Horrified, he saw her distractedly wipe her now bloody hand on her jeans. 

"Help me. Please?" 

She snickered a bit and walked over to where his clothes had been dropped. Picking them up, she looked back at him gleefully. 

"Come and get them!" 

Jim tried to glare at her, but was too wiped out to succeed. Seeing she wouldn't get a chase of any kind, she threw the clothes over to the bench. 

"Come see me sometime when you feel better, old man." 

Then she turned and left. 

Someone he didn't know came over to him timidly. 

"Hi. You need some help?" 

Jim nodded. 

"Clothes and... could you... call the hospital? I... I'm badly torn, I think." 

Face whitening, the guy helped Jim cover up as best as they could manage it on the bench. The guy then helped him towards the entrance. 

"Where..." 

"Outside. Ain't gonna call anyone to come in _here_ , dude. Might get the place shut down. You just lean over this, and I'll call them. And dude? Don't tell them about this place. Most of us don't condone Rose's behaviour, but we still need the place." 

The stranger went back inside, leaving Jim in an exhausted heap over a crate. He mused over the circumstances that had brought him to this place in his life. They sucked. Now if only... no, Blair wasn't to be told of this. Ever. 

'How can I keep it from him?' 

He got no further in his thoughts before sound of a siren cut through the night, making his ears hurt almost as bad as the rest of him. 

The next thing he noticed were the paramedics fussing over him, more than one of them swallowing convulsively at the sight of his ass. They fortunately gave him some painkillers, so he didn't notice anything more until he woke up in a room at Mercy General. 

The lack of light from the outside told him it was almost dawn, when he tried cracking his eyes open. Sound... he was not alone. Who... oh damn. Blair. They must have called him from ER when he was brought in. 

This was one time where Jim regretted putting Sandburg in as his medical contact. 

Mentally going over his body, he knew that he was pretty bad off. He was placed on his side, bandages the size of Texas covering his ass. And he still felt squishy inside, but guessed that it was now antibiotic cream instead of his own blood. 

Twitching at the hopelessness in his situation brought a quick snort from the side of his bed. 

"Jim? Jim! Thank God, you're awake." 

Jim felt his hand being grabbed and held to a rather stubbled cheek. 

"When they called me and told you were here... I was so afraid." 

Deep blue eyes searched blindly for his in the near total darkness. 

"You can turn on the light, Sandburg." 

Was that really his voice? So raspy... he hoped, he sounded better than he thought. 

The light brought forth a gasp from his roommate. Jim tried to remember if his face had been messed with, but nothing came to mind. What was it then? 

"Jim... what the hell happened to you? Who did this?" 

A cool hand stroked gently over his cheek and then followed its owner's gaze down his body, to his groin area. He resisted the urge to purr, but only because he was too fucked up to manage it. 

"What did they tell you?" 

An audible swallow. 

"That you'd been... raped and beaten severely. God, Jim. Who did it?" 

Blushing, Jim tried to turn away. 

"No! No, Jim Ellison. Don't you dare turn away from me anymore. This wasn't the first time, was it? I've seen you... I can put two and two together and end up with the right number. Tell me, dammit!" 

Pained mentally and physically, Jim tried to plead the fifth with his eyes. 

It didn't work. 

Sighing, he surrendered to the inevitable. The past couple of years had truly been good, maybe too good. Now it was time to fess up. 

"I... I met this girl..." 

Jim's eyes widened in surprise. Blair looked... pained? 

"She... damn, this is hard, Sandburg." 

He tried to take a deep breath, but couldn't quite manage. He settled for sighing and turning his head towards the pillow, essentially talking to the mattress. 

"I can't look at you right now, Blair. Please let me do things my way." 

"Ok, Jim. This time." 

"She found some triggers of mine and took them a bit too far. That's all there is to it." 

"Triggers? You mean...? How important is she to you?" 

Jim tried to mumble the answer, but the fierce wolf presently occupying his roommate's body would have none of that. 

"I don't trust her. Especially not now. I... I've got... a problem, Blair." 

A gentle hand swept through his hair, making him want to arch into the pleasure. God, nothing Rose had done had felt so... meaningful, so deep, as this simple caress from someone who wasn't even a lover. 

"What problem is that, Jim?" 

"I want something I can never have." 

"What do you want? Or maybe I should ask, _who_ do you want?" 

Jim whimpered. The fear in his heart greatly outweighed his aching body right now. 

"You." 

The hand stilled. 

Jim couldn't help it. His control non-existent and with pain lying heavily in his heart and body, he could do nothing but surrender. 

A single tear slid from his eye. 

The bed shifted, and Jim, thinking that Blair was getting up, froze completely. 

"Shhhhh... it's ok. I wish you'd told me sooner." 

The voice came from right beside his ear. Soft lips kissed the tear track. 

"I'm too late, ain't I? You've found someone else... someone less fucked up. Someone young, someone female. Someone I can never be." 

Jim tried to turn completely into the pillow, but strong hands held him in place. 

"Before _this_ happened to you, man. Before you got really hurt." 

A feather soft kiss landed on his cheek. 

"Tell me about it, Jim. The real version, not the one that's going in to the report tomorrow. I want to know... I _need_ to know what really happened this time and the other times." 

He gave in. There wasn't really anything else he could do. He'd known the confrontation would come, but never in a million years would he have thought it would take place on a hospital bed. 

"First, I have to know... how do you feel about me?" 

One cool hand stroked through his hair, while the other grabbed for Jim's hand. 

"I love you, Jim. Always have, always will. I just didn't think I'd have a snowball's chance in hell of ever attracting you. I'm glad, I was wrong about that." 

Jim turned his face towards his roommate. 

"Really?" 

"Yeah, really. Now, kiss me and tell me the whole thing." 

Jim did as he was told, meeting the soft lips of his partner in a chaste kiss. 

"There are a lot of things you don't really know about me, Chief. That I like men as well as women... no, that's a lie. I prefer men." 

He earned a slight squeeze of his hand for that. 

"I also like... darker things... forbidden stuff... you know..." 

Jim looked towards the pillow again. Maybe that held the answer on how to tell this? 

"I think I know, Jim, but tell me anyway" 

Sighing, he gave in... again. 

"Kinky stuff. Otherwise I'd never have gotten this way... I needed it. She was there. I went for it. Bad choice." 

He shrugged as well as he could, lying on his side as he was. Blair must have felt the movement, because he held on a bit tighter, soothing him wordlessly. 

"It went bad already the first time, Chief. She hurt me badly, but it was so good. She tripped almost all my switches that night, making it so good I could forget." 

"Forget what? The bad stuff?" 

"No... how much I ached for you. I could forget you were out on a date with yet another woman. I could get away." 

A strangled sound next to him made him look up. Blair had the weirdest expression on his face. 

"What?" 

"I went out with them to try and forget who I _really_ wanted to be with. Sublimating, you know. I had no idea... Jim, I'm so sorry." 

Jim gave a small, bitter smile. 

"You and me both." 

He sighed and tried really hard to let bygones be bygones. 

"Anyway, I didn't want to be with her again, but somehow I found myself back there. And no, I'm not going to tell you where." 

He tried to look sternly at his partner, but it lacked force. That could of course be, because Blair currently was nuzzling his shoulder blade, one of the few _safe_ places right now. 

"She was... it was indescribable... she... amused herself by giving me to the others. Everybody. I was bad off that next day. That's when you started being suspicious. Don't think I didn't notice. I'm a Detective, remember?" 

Jim tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a whimper than as a sign of amusement. 

Blair didn't say anything, just kept up the tiny nuzzling of his shoulder, while gripping his hand a bit tighter. 

"And last night... I zoned, Chief. On the feeling of..." 

He couldn't continue. 

"Tell me, Jim. What happened that was so intense?" 

"She gave me to a Master... he... tore me up. Badly. I could feel my blood... so smooth, so slick... adding to... I can't tell you, Chief! I can't!" 

Jim turned away again, trying with all his might to push the memories away, push the threatening tears away. He succeeded, but only just. 

"What did he use, Jim? His cock, a toy, his hand?" 

"Last," Jim muttered into the pillow. 

"Fuck." 

Jim snorted in to the pillow. 

"You can say that again." 

"Fuck." 

This time it was said with a faint trace of humor behind it, but still angry and bitter. 

"Jim... how did you get out of it? You said, you'd zoned... how did you get back to the present?" 

He could feel his cheeks get warmer. 

"The pain got severe enough that I surfaced." 

"Pain? What pain? From inside?" 

"No... a paddle. That's how the outside got bad. Apparently I was too unresponsive." 

"Oh my God..." 

The arms holding him so gently tightened into steel bands around him. He moaned as it put pressure on his broken skin. Blair immediately loosened his grip and fussed over him, all apologies. 

"Sorry, Jim, so very sorry... but I just can't find anything good about that... that... _bitch_!" 

Jim tried hard to smother the yawn threatening to overtake his face. He was getting really sleepy again, but he would try to stay awake... for Blair's sake. 

Yeah, right. Only for Blair's sake. He didn't need to talk about it all. Mentally chastising himself, Jim turned his head towards Blair again. 

"She _is_ a bitch... and a dangerous one. She didn't care about my needs, my limits, or me. I saw that clearer than ever tonight. But I'm still not telling everything to the police." 

Blair shushed him, agreeing with him. Apparently the kid knew him better than he'd thought. 

"Chief... there's something else I need to tell you... this time about the Sentinel-stuff..." 

His partner visibly culled his temper, controlling his breathing and looked at him... calm once more. 

"The zone-out, Jim?" 

"No, she... she drugged me, but I don't know what it was... maybe you could... no, wait. I don't want you even _near_ her. It didn't whack me out, so it can't have been strong. It just made me less bothered by what was going on. I didn't care." 

He could see the thoughts flying rapidly over Blair's face. He didn't know what they were, but he could see as each thought was weighed and subsequently dismissed. 

"How did you get it?" 

Jim blushed. 

"The drug, man." 

"Dissolved in beer. I didn't sense it until too late. I could taste it wasn't all beer. That's all. Very vague." 

"Did any of your senses spike? Touch, perhaps?" 

"None of them, Chief. That's the weirdest part of it. I felt almost normal." 

"Probably a tranquilliser, then. I'll do some more research on it, later. In the meantime, go back to sleep, Jim. You're all but off anyway." 

He tried to widen his eyes, to look more awake. 

"Bullshit, man. Go back to sleep. I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere. Especially not now." 

Soft caresses on his cheek and over his hair made his eyes drift close. 

"Chief?" 

Jim forced his eyes open again; wanting to make sure that his partner was still there. 

"I'm here, Jim. I love you. Now sleep." 

Jim slept. 

End part one. 


End file.
